Crack:  Elmo Commits Suicide
by cookies111
Summary: T for death and minor swearing. Dorothy took her own life, now Elmo follows behind...Also there's an angry Hank Hill. Crack...compleat crack.


A/N:_ . . . what the fuck is this?_

_Lol, okay, I know this is like, the oddest thing ever. But it's a commission for my friend. We were joking about weird fanfics we could just write and laugh at. Then,I said, "Elmo commits suicide." And we burst out laughing._

_Then she says, "Write it for me." So here it is. It only took me like, a half hour, not even._

_This is a total crack-fic and should not be taken seriously. Oh, btw my friend loves King of the Hill so. . .yeah, I threw some of that in there. I think it turned out good._

_I don't own King of the Hill or Sesame(sp?) Street. _

". . . Dorothy?" Elmo muttered softly as he looked at his beloved goldfish, floating at the top of her bowl. "Dorothy, wake up. Elmo doesn't think the fish sleep like that."

He gazed innocently at his only friend. The little, red monster was so annoying that no one wanted to go near him for fear of having to hear his voice, so he had no choice but to get a goldfish to be his friend. Everyone always thought he was so ignorant. But he was smarter than his grammar might suggest. He knew. He knew what they said behind his back and how much they hated him.

Well wouldn't you hate him too?

Over the years, Elmo discovered that even Dorothy, his dear pet that he won in a cheap carnival game, despised him with a passion that ran deep. But Elmo tried to ignore it. He desperately tried to make himself believe that there was at least one person left in the world who cared weather he lived or died. It was in vain though.

Dorothy would never love him like he loved her. She was annoyed constantly by him talking to her, asking stupid questions that always have nothing to do with anything. And you don't want to get her started on those damn babies. They just sit there, but he pretends like they actually said something.

Elmo continues to stare at the corpse afloat in the water. A lump the size of a grapefruit formed deep in his throat. Were he not a puppet made of felt that was sewn together, tears would be rushing out of his plastic eyes that seem to stare into your soul.

"D-Dorothy. Come on Dorothy wake up. Big Bird is coming over soon to teach us about fruit. It should be a lot better than that last time when he taught us about propane and propane accessories."

~Somewhere far away and totally off topic~

Hank Hill, feeling a disturbance in the world of propane and propane accessories, looked up from the "Propane Today" magazine he was engulfed in just moments ago. Furrowing his brow in concentration, he tried to focus on where the odd feeling in the universe was coming from.

". . . Hank, are you alright?" His wife, Peggy, asked him as she placed a plate of steak made with the wonderful gas that is propane in front of him. Hank didn't move, but answered in his thick, Texan accent, "I don't know Peggy. I think someone might have just said something bad about propane and I'm trying to figure out where it's coming from so I can go there and kick their loser ass. Do you know what I say about people who don't like propane, Peggy?"

His wife knew all too well what her husband said to people like that, but before she could say anything, Hank continued, "I say, LOSER! You're a loser! You know why Peggy? Because propane is the best thing to happen to this world since the wheel . . . which is on the trucks we use to transport propane. So you see how everything is connected?"

Peggy stood there for a second, remembering the time she had said that charcoal was better than propane. Never again would she make that mistake. Hank had given her a five-hour lecture about how she was a loser and would always be if she liked charcoal. After a few minutes, she nodded, "That is right Hank. You tell them just that. Oh and Hank, I think I might nee—" "OH MY GOD, IT'S SO JUICY!" Hank yelled as he took a bite of the steak, completely forgetting about finding whoever had dissed propane.

"Dad?" A soft, gravelly voice asked nervously from the doorway. Hank looked to the where it had come from with annoyance in his eyes. "Dangit Bobbeh, dinner started a whole two minutes ago. Where were ya' boy?" Bobby entered the kitchen rubbing his hands together.

Looking guiltily at his father, he began to say, "Dad, I think I found my new hobby. But I don't know if you'll like it." Hank stared at his son and sighed, dreading what was coming, "What is it Bobbeh?"

Bobby turned around, pulled out a mirror, and began to do something that Hank couldn't see behind his back. When he turned back around, Bobby had on a short blonde wig and lots of woman's makeup.

Peggy made a "derp face" as she stared blankly at her son. Hank did the same. "What is this Bobbeh?" he asked.

"I've decided that I'm going to be a drag queen, dad."

"Bwaaaaaaaa!" Hank cried. One of his worst nightmares had come true.

Peggy gasped, "Bobby, I thought we were going to tell him together!" Hank glared at her. "You knew?"

"Well of course I knew, Hank!"

"Bwaaaaaaaaaa!" He shouted once again, his face wide with shock and horror.

Bobby then whispered just loud enough for his father to hear, "Also I asked Joseph if he wanted to date and he said yes." Hank's face went into an expression of rage, panic, and terror.

"BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!1!11!" And Hank's head exploded.

~Back to Elmo~

Organ music sounded throughout Elmo's bathroom as the funeral took place. Slowly, the furry, red monster himself began to walk towards the toilet, a now useless fishbowl in his hands.

Not many other monsters were there. The only ones that'd shown up were The Count, who was playing the large organ that had somehow gotten in the small bathtub, Big Bird, Ernie, and Burt. Some of Elmo's house hold appliances had come too. T.V. was there, as well as Computer, Shade, Lamp, Door, Piano, Table, and of course, the Noodle family who apparently lived behind Shade.

Now at the toilet, Elmo whispered a prayer to his fish, and dumped all the water with Dorothy into the white bowl. There was a moment of silence, and, all too soon, Elmo flushed. He watched helplessly as his one friend swirled around limply before disappearing forever into the sewers.

He felt awful, mostly because he found out that Dorothy hadn't died of natural causes. She had committed suicide. No more than five minutes after her death, Elmo found the fish's suicide note.

It'd read,

Dear whoever may find this,

I only want you to know that I regret nothing. Except maybe not doing this sooner. That Elmo is such a freak. He drives me insane. I just can't take it anymore. By the time you've found this, I will have drowned myself. Don't ask me how that's possible because I am dead. I would leave all my possessions to Mr. Noddle, but I don't have any because that cheap bastard Elmo never bought me anything. See ya later guys.

With no love to Elmo,

~Dorothy Amelia Fleu Marceline Lovill XI

It was truly heartbreaking. Overcome by a sudden wave of pure guilt and grief, Elmo bolted out of the room. He ran out of his house and out of his neighborhood into the woods. He knew what he had to do to even come close to living with himself, and that was not living at all.

Waves could be heard crashing against jagged rocks up ahead, but Elmo just kept running straight ahead. Eventually, he got to the edge of a cliff. But that didn't stop him. He sprinted right over the edge, tumbling towards the sure death that lay at the bottom.

His eyes grew wide with shock at what he'd just done, but would never think of doing it different. His short fur became disheveled as the wind pushed against it. Were it anyone else, they would have probably screamed blood curling shrieks. But not Elmo. Instead, he spoke the first words to come to his mind.

. . . . .

. . . .

. . .

.

"WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—" _SPLAT!_

~Somewhere else~

Groggily, Elmo opened his heavy eyes and looked around. There was . . . nothing. Literally, there was nothing. Just white, white, white.

Then, out of nowhere, a shadow appeared, and a man took form. "Elmo McFreindship?" An accented voice asked, looking right at him. Elmo nodded, "Are you death?" The figure shook his head, "No, but I might as well be yours."

He made angry eyes at Elmo. "I gotta teach ya a lesson boy. You do not insult propane or propane accessories, understood?" Elmo raised an eyebrow. "But Elmo thinks propane sucks. Charcoal is better." He said.

"BWAAAA!" The figure, Hank Hill, yelled. "That's it young man, your dead!" And Hank Hill killed Elmo's soul, making him cease to exist.

Parties were held all over the world.

THE END.

_A/N: lol, so what do you think? Sorry if any Elmo lovers got their feelings hurt or something. I love the little red guy too, but his voice can get kinda annoying after a while, no?_

_See you all later, and just so you know, I started the next chapter of "High School Romance" (I'll now be calling it HSR for short) so that is in progress. I sorta have writer's block for Not All Stories though. If anyone has suggestions, I'd love to hear them._

_Review if you want._

_Byez~ _


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